


Itsy Bitsy Spider

by itsjustafeelingthatihave



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Brief male nudity/descriptions of the male body, Brief sensual undertones, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Spiders, Swearing, Teasing, The killing of spiders, Walkers (Walking Dead), allusions to impending sexual activities, mentions of zombie apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjustafeelingthatihave/pseuds/itsjustafeelingthatihave
Summary: A sleepy evening turns hair-raising with the addition of an unwanted guest.





	Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the pieces that was posted on my Tumblr, before I made this AO3 account. So, I'm currently playing catch up with getting those works posted over here as well. Once everything I have written previously is cohesively posted on here as well, the posting arrangement will be this: As of now, my upcoming works will be posted to Tumblr first, directly followed by its upload to AO3. All of the same fanfictional writing that can be found on my Tumblr will also be available on AO3, and vice versa. The only exception to this is my Roleplay writing and collaborative writing with other Tumblr users. That sort of writing will remain viewable on Tumblr only.)
> 
> **Here's a snippet of my original author's note for context:** This plot was heavily influenced by my unexpected encounter with a spider in my bed earlier this week. I know… Fun, right? If only Negan had been there to save me ;) You guys are all amazing. Now, on with the fic. Happy reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **A written rundown of the warnings for this particular chapter (both those tagged and untagged) : Swearing. Spiders. Talk of arachnophobia in varying degrees, (both in a serious and joking manner.) The killing of spiders. Brief male nudity/descriptions of the male body. Mentions of the Zombie Apocalypse. Brief sensual undertones, and allusions to impending sexual activities. And Negan being Negan ;). ALL CHARACTERS INVOLVED ARE OF, OR ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT. BOTH INVOLVED ARE ABOVE THE AGE OF 21 AS WELL.**
> 
> **Other notes: None.**
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this! If you want to share your thoughts and whatnot with me, I’m all ears! Thank you for taking the time to check out my profile and/or my work, in any capacity you choose to interact with it. Please know, any feedback given is treasured and wholeheartedly appreciated. A big thank you to the people who helped me stay encouraged as I wrote this, and all who read the finished product. You guys are all amazing. Now, on with the fic. Happy reading!
> 
> Wanna connect elsewhere, or read/interact with my work elsewhere online? You can find me on Tumblr, under the same handle: 'itsjustafeelingthatihave' - This is my personal and fandom blog, so you get a bit of everything over there!
> 
> **MY FICS ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS (18+ AUDIENCES) ONLY. THEY WILL BE RATED/TAGGED/GIVEN WARNINGS AS THOROUGHLY AS POSSIBLE. PLEASE HEED ANY AND ALL INFO PROVIDED BEFORE/WHEN READING.**

The text of the book in hand began blurring as your eyes grew tired. Wrapped in warmth, you sank deeper into the coverage of a fluffed duvet. An ongoing flow of water from within the attached bathroom acted as white noise, further encouraging an already prominent drowsiness.

With each bristling turn of page, the sheets rustled beneath your elbows. Yawning, you considered calling it a night right then and there. As reflected in the glowing display of a tabletop alarm clock, midnight was fast approaching. Negan’s shower seemed to be endless, and your heavy lids were betraying the promise to wait for him in bed.

Setting the reading material aside, you ran a sobering hand over your face. Intent on at least trying to stay awake, you rolled over and banished all covers while stretched across the mattress.

It was this change in position that allowed a dark splotch to enter your sight line. When said spot flitted into the luminescence given off by the opposite bedside lamp, its eight-legged build became apparent, starkly contrasting the muted gray linen. It was a spider, nearly the size of a quarter. And it was defiling the bed with its presence.

Catching your focus, it came closer, employing a menacingly speedy scuttle. Yes, there was morbid humor in maintaining fear of such things when the dead roamed outside. But that squeamish aversion was a well-functioning remnant of easier days.

“Fuck,” you squealed, reaching desperately for the abandoned hardcover, planning to use it as a makeshift bludgeon. Unwilling to compromise the distance between yourself and the arachnid, you lobbed the protective object with a timid throw.

As desired, the book fell flat atop your target. Glimmers of accomplishment brought a sigh of relief upon moving to inspect the sure obliteration. But this time of triumph was cut short by another yelp, as the newly rediscovered foe scurried out from underneath the lifted weight. Somehow, it appeared to be unharmed by the attempted vanquishing.

Recoiling from the spider’s loathsome advance as far as the bed would allow, a plea ripped from you without much thought, “Negan!”

Thankfully, the sound of wet feet immediately responded, leaving a waterfall thundering against tile in the wake of pounding steps.

Tearing away from the singular intruder, you peered over your shoulder to see the fierce leader nearly yank the dividing door off its hinges. Droplets beaded across his completely bare expanse of flesh. Urgency flexed his features, and panic amplified the accompanying exclamation, “Y/N!” His widened eyes darted frantically around the bedroom, searching for the unforeseen threat.

Composure was still far from attainable as the spider crept ever closer. Your disgust for the creature reduced you to rudimentary communication. The order for action was nothing but a compressed squeak, “There’s a spider on the bed, kill it.” An accusatory finger jabbed at the unwanted bedfellow.

With eyes again trained on the looming issue, you only heard his repressed scoffing chuckle from where he remained, unmoving.

“Don’t just stand there! It’s gonna get away!”

Drawn by the pull of your words, his defined frame finally moved in the instructed direction, paddling calmly around the end of the bed.

“Stand down, lil’ Ms. ‘Fraidy Cat. I’ll put an end to the itsy bitsy spider for ya’. Don’t go falling off the bed, or burnin’ the place to the ground.” The words were a placating tease, but he knew better than to disregard your fright any further at that moment.

Remaining unabashedly curved in cowardice, you replied dryly without shifting your glaring visual fixture, “Ha ha, very funny. Please do.”

Negan chortled once more at your distinct displeasure, now positioned high above the skittering shadow on his side of the mattress. This new viewing angle brought him up to speed with your realization. “Shit, maybe it’s not so itsy bitsy,” he breathed.

“Right? It’s monstrous.” You insisted, still refusing to look away from it.

Ignoring the cast away tome as a viable extermination method, nimble fingers curled around Lucille’s handle. She was propped between the headboard and adjacent nightstand, always at the ready. Careful to avoid the barbed wire wrapped barrel, the standard hold was quite literally flipped on its head. Negan lined up the blunt, circular cap of the grip with the intended bullseye as it fought to escape fate. In one swift motion, the flat coin of wood crushed into the sheet, squashing its spindly victim with acute accuracy.

“Take that, you creepy-crawly fucker! Trying to bother my girl? In my bed? When she’s outta her chair and stuck with ya’? I think fuckin’ not,” he boomed victoriously, lifting pressure off the pummeled visitor. His adorably vehement personification soothed your concern, morphing it into a relieved giggle.

Openly satisfied with the given solution, he beamed expectantly at you, brimming with pride. “All is right with the world again,” he announced, craning backward in his familiar trademark of success.

Released from the admittedly minor problem, a grateful smile smoothed your expression in kind. You placed a hand over your gradually slowing heartbeat with theatrical vigor, “My hero. My knight in…” A second’s pause broke the complimentary statement. It was an attempt to conjure a workable conclusion to the phrase that befit his unabashed nudity, “…his freshly showered birthday suit?” Settling on that witticism, the questioning punctuation proceeded more airy laughter.

Negan cleansed Lucille’s dirtied endpoint with an acquired tissue before raising a pair of sly hazel eyes. The given assumption slid out of the continued jovial smirk, “I bet you just wanted to see me bare-ass naked. Couldn’t wait another minute, could you?”

Shrugging in dramatized defeat, you matched his play, “Damn, you caught me. It was the only way I could think to get you in between the sheets with any real hurry.” You winked with purposely exaggerated cheesiness, giving the now safe side of the bed an inviting pat.

He returned the prized baseball bat to its designated station and discarded the crumpled paper, grin only widening at your pouty response to his noncompliant departure.

Slowing his extended strut, Negan retraced a set of drippy footprints to the area of interrupted activity. His entire body showcased a statuesque sway in the comfort of a toasty room. “You always did have a naughty streak or two,” he purred, looking over your scantily clad form in salacious appreciation. Before you could reply with anything more than heated cheeks, he continued the ribbing from the threshold of the restroom. “Try not to get dive-bombed by a fly while I dry off.”

“Hey,” you countered, defense wavering with a snicker, “that spider did not look harmless, and you know it.”

The ghost of a guffaw followed as he disappeared fully into the connected space. Canting your neck to catch another glimpse of him, the lighthearted argument continued.

“Some might say using Lucille on a spider is just plain overkill. You trying to compensate for some arachnophobia of your own there, dear?” You couldn’t help the mischief that uplifted your lips. Curling toward the still unimpeded threshold, you peeked out from behind a snatched pillow in jest. Of course, the big, bad Savior would never admit to such a mundane scare.

The echo of water on ceramic cut off abruptly. When Negan reappeared in the doorway, he had a damp towel in his hold. “Hey,” he zeroed in eagerly, with no true hostility in the chide. “That bastard was fuckin’ massive. You saw it.” This twist on your original phrase was enough to cue a benevolent nod.

Happily conceding, the shielding mass was lowered in surrender, “Okay, okay. Well, thank you for taking care of it. And me.” The introduction of your sincerity softened him, as it consistently did. His upturned features were graced with a sparkling contentment.

“It’s my pleasure, darlin’. Anytime, anywhere, I’ll keep ya’ safe and fuckin’ sound.” The honesty in his eyes seemed an antidote, certain to assuage worry. Embers dancing in his attention increasingly reinvigorated your earlier fading energy.

“So,” you flipped back onto your stomach, “are you gonna give me the opportunity to thank you for that act of chivalry now, or later?” The gentle tickle of your own breath brushed your shoulder in turning to glance his way. Noting the corresponding shift of his gaze, you gave your ass the slightest come-hither shake from beneath the lace hem of a silken nightie.

Negan appreciated this effort, emitting a throaty growl. Lacking any clothing barrier, one could observe his very nerves twitch to life alongside a jubilant flash of teeth. “Well, as they say, gotta live in the now.”


End file.
